Kairos and Tyche (Or the Importance of What If)
by Elfreida
Summary: It is said somewhere, deep in the repository that is Hogwarts' library, that the very existence of wizards on earth is owed to the most incredible chance. Those moments when time holds still, on the brink of falling one way or another, waiting for just one little push. Or...more accurately two idiot-geniuses, a witch, and a mysteriously anonymous time turner...(set during Yr6)


_**Prologue**_

**You Don't Know Me**

No one who's ever met me has described me as quiet. To give you a better idea, what most people see is a girl who takes the world and knows how to dance its tune. Actually, I do dance a lot so I suppose they can be forgiven for thinking that.

No one who's ever talked to me has described me as sweet. Understandably.

No one who's ever been around me for more than ten minutes has described me as sensible. Any teacher or relative could regale a classroom full of six year olds as to what I used to get up to.

No one who's ever stayed longer than ten minutes has described me as considerate. In fact, I know I'm downright bloody selfish sometimes.

No one who's ever been in an argument with me has described me as kind. Ever.

No one who's ever realised how much I really notice things has described me as clever. Which is strange, because you'd think knowing other people's secrets constitutes being intelligent. Especially when I've been called 'gifted' in almost every other situation.

No one who's ever heard my name knows how much I hate – with every passion – the implication that I ought to be 'great'. My dad was a hero, if heroes exist. Therefore I must inherit some sort of radiance myself. Bullshit.

There are people who can claim to know me who think I'll be noteworthy.

There are people who do know me that think I'll change the world.

Then there are my brothers.

Albus thinks that, when I find what I really want, everyone'll finally know the truth because I'll set the world on fire.

James thinks I'll do that anyway.

But really, I reckon the person who knows me the least is me.

Actually it's weird writing about this. Weirder that the bloke who's at least fifty percent responsible for the resulting blaze has woken up and is currently kissing my knee. Arrogant prick, really. I honestly don't know why I'm with him at all.

_Oh…_right…that's _why_…

_You evil bastard!_

No I'm not deleting that last bit!

Bollocks. I'm just going to record all this in extracted memory - fuck writing it down..._s'pecially if you're going to do _that _while I'm writing!_

_Evil. Fucking. Wanker!_

* * *

Right. Now he's asleep…well, too _exhausted _to interfere let's put it that way…I just want to say a few last things. He's – _and this is the one time I'm going to write it down_ – beyond _anything._

I mean I could say all the stuff you're supposed to. All the clichés, but it wouldn't mean much so I'll say it like it is: he's irrational.

He never stops for anything.

He bottles it all up until it spills over and he's screaming and shouting and lashing out.

He'll out-live God to have the last word.

He'll push everyone away because he thinks he's better working for himself; only hurting himself, only risking himself, controlling his own actions.

But underneath that he's terrified of being alone.

_Sound like anyone I'd know?_

Still, I braved the barbs. The claws. I came up against those walls of stone and found them to be made of paper. Maybe I was the only one that could've seen – apart from James and Remus of course. We were the ones that stayed. And I saw the man underneath it all.

There aren't words.

There just aren't.

Is that how it's supposed to be? Like…warm water, sloshing endlessly in my stomach? Not just another body. _No, never that._ More like…_home? What is he to me?_

I'm scared to give it name, so I won't.

But I can't imagine anyone else. And maybe there won't be; who the hell knows with him? With me?

He's my best mate. Actually, that's how this started, for better or worse.

He takes me off to the stars brings me back from the brink.

And then, inexplicably, he's still there. After the adrenaline's worn off and the explosions have stopped, he's sitting at the kitchen table with a cuppa for us both. And we didn't talk when that happened yesterday. Neither of us needed to, and that was fine.

The storm's still coming and we're still here.

I don't know what's going to happen.

* * *

The only person who _truly_ doesn't know _me_...is me.

_**Lily Luna Potter, 1997**_

* * *

**A.N: Kairos: Ancient Greek word for the 'tipping point'. In tragedy it's the point where things start on the path to the hamartia (the mistake).**

**_Tyche: Ancient Greek word for genuine (and often remarkable) coincidence. See Euripides' Ion. _**

**_Yes, I have just sat a Classics exam. Hence why my brain is in escapist mode and keeps coming up with these things. Still, I'm happy with this idea._****_  
_**

**_"He'll out-live god to have the last word" is from Sherlock (John says it to Irene). OH...I suppose I should mention my muse for this._**

**_Ben Barnes as a young Sirius Black, Andrew Garfield as a young James Potter, and Karen Gillan as a young Lily Evans. Just...well, occasionally I'll look at Deviantart and Tumblr and Google Images and I'll get ideas. _**

**_Thoughts? Anyone? Pretty please precioussess!_**


End file.
